Forgotten
by I-like-chickens
Summary: After coming back home after an unusually long time on TB5 John feels like he doesn't fit in with his family anymore. Slight AU.
1. Chapter One

A/N: Hey guys, just taking a small break from effect. This is a standalone but if anyone wants another chapter just say and I can write one, I have a few ideas even though I think it works ok like this. Anyways, enjoy!

**Forgotten.**

It had been the first time John had been back on Earth for 7 months, an unusually long stint that had left him dead on his feet. He was glad to be home at last, a grin lit his face as he imagined Alan up in Thunderbird 5 probably bored out of his mind already.

John looked up at the blue sky, only a few shades lighter than his eyes, and the sun warmed his pale face. The sunlight reflected in his eyes and they shimmered in the sunlight. It hurt, his eyes were unused to the light. Sure, there was light on Thunderbird 5 but not to this intensity. He closed his eyes and let his shoulders slump.

He was exhausted and in desperately needed to sleep without any interruptions for at least 10 hours. Only God knows how much he needed it but he knew he wouldn't be allowed to. He'd be expected to go and dump his bag in his bedroom before spending the rest of the day with his family.

His Family, he loved them so much but he never felt like he really belonged. He felt like an outcast, almost like a stranger. He wasn't sure how to act around them anymore, he only saw Gordon, Virgil and Scott when they did a supply run up to the space station and even then they couldn't stay longer than to unload Thunderbird 3's cargo which probably didn't take longer than half an hour.

He opened his eyes after sensing someone was watching him. He was quite shocked to find a pair of old eyes boring into his face.

John knew why his Father kept him in Thunderbird 5 and he understood. Really, he did but it didn't mean he had to like it.

"Hello, Father." John almost whispered.

Jeff didn't acknowledge his words but instead turned and started back towards the house.

"Put your bag in your room then join your brothers in the games room." Jeff said before disappearing into the house.

John nodded although he knew his Father wouldn't have seen it. Even if he had John doubted if his Father would acknowledge the act.

He wondered how he had come to be stood next to the pool, why hadn't he just gone straight back to his room? It was a mystery even to him.

With his holdall in one hand and his other buried in his trouser pocket he made his way to his room.

When he arrived he noted that nothing had been where he had left it all those months ago. The room looked like it had been ransacked; clothes were strewn all over the place and all of his comics from when he had been a teen, he had kept them in a box at the back of his wardrobe, had been torn up and scattered everywhere.

John felt anger and an indescribable amount of grief well up in his chest. Anger because someone had deliberately wrecked his room and thrown everything around, leaving everything in total chaos, and grief because the comics were all he had left of his childhood. The comics, such insignificant items, held an important meaning and had played an important role in his childhood. Now they were nothing of what they used to be, just scraps of paper waiting to be picked up and thrown into the trash.

The comics were beyond help, just like he felt he was.

John closed the door to his room before dropping his holdall. He suddenly felt 10 years older, he felt as if he was going to collapse at that precise second.

He desperately wanted someone to talk to, to tell them all his darkest secrets and deepest fears. He wanted, no needed, a shoulder to cry on. Someone he could turn to and always be greeted with open arms. Someone who would never even dream of turning him away, someone to love him for who he was and be ready to get to know him instead of accepting him at face value.

He had had that person once before but now they were gone and he knew that he would never find another person like her.

He was an enigma, a mystery. Someone nobody really wanted to take the time to get to know. Who would actually do all of that for him? Who actually cared how he felt?

'No one.' He thought, bitterly. 'I'm only there when I'm needed, the rest of the time I'm dead as far as everyone else is concerned.'

John's own brothers didn't know him and he highly doubted that they cared for him. No one cared for him, he was untouchable. He was no one.

He missed his Mother; she had been the only one who had really loved him for who he was. All his quirks that his brothers and Father had found weird she had understood that they were what made him John.

She had been the one who would comfort him after episodes with bullies at school, she would fix him up and give him a smile before ushering him out of the bathroom with the promise she wouldn't tell his Father displayed clearly in her eyes and ready on her lips.

She had been the one to help him with his homework when everyone else was too busy to care. She would talk him through things and made sure he understood everything before leaving him to his own devices.

She had been the one to scold his brothers for picking on him instead of laughing and encouraging it like his Father would have. She would have wiped away the tears of hurt and held him close to her chest in a bone-crushing hug.

She had been the one to teach him about the stars. She used to take him once a month to the observatory in the next town over from theirs. It was their special time, just Mother and Son. She had shown him the constellations and would point out her favourite star on every visit.

She had been the only one to understand and that was why he had loved and trusted her so much. He had felt an unbreakable bond had been formed between them that he knew he would never share with another soul upon this Earth.

He sunk heavily onto his bed and curled himself into a ball. And for the first time since his Mother died all those years ago, he cried. His arms that covered his face muffled horrible, heart-wrenching sobs.

He just cried. For his lost youth, his present being and for what he was destined to become. Forgotten.


	2. Chapter Two

A/N- After much deliberation and confusion I have decided to post another chapter. To be honest, when I wrote the first chapter I had no idea where I was going with it or whether I was going to leave it as a one shot but I'm glad I've carried it on and I hope you are too.

**Chapter Two**

Banging on his door not ten minutes later awakened him, he didn't understand how he had fallen asleep all he knew was that he had.

"John!" He heard over the banging. "Unlock your door!"

John frowned, he didn't remember locking his door and why did his hands hurt so much? He ignored the pain and moved sluggishly off of his bed. The voice on the other side of the door was Scott's, why was he here?

Was Scott here to come clean to him? Had it been Scott who had wrecked his room and destroyed his memories? Had Scott been sent by their Father to shout him? He had forgotten about going to the Games Room after all.

His hands were shaking and covered in dried blood as he unlocked the door and pulled it towards himself. Scott didn't even wait for it to open all the way before he barged in.

John's eyes widened and he quickly hid his hands behind his back, he didn't want to show his weakness. Scott would only laugh.

Scott's eyes were wide as they came to rest on John's pale face, "Jesus Christ." He muttered.

The elder brother had quickly scanned the room, it hadn't been like this when he had come to check it before John got home, and was left speechless. So that had been all the noise he and the others had heard, he was confused as to why John would have done it.

"What did you do?" Scott asked; then his voice softened. "Have you been crying?"

John didn't say anything, what could he say? Was Scott trying to pin all the blame on him for this? He didn't do it, he was sure of it. He lowered his head and looked at the floor as Scott stepped closer to him.

"You have, what's wrong?" Scott's face showed compassion but John couldn't help but think it seemed forged. Scott place something akin to a comforting hand on his shoulder, "You know you can talk to me, right?"

John had flinched when Scott's hand had come into contact with him and he backed into the wall to escape the touch. He was panicked and confused, there was no one else here so why was Scott being nice to him? There was no one to act for.

"I…I…I don't know what you're talking about." John managed to say, cursing himself for stuttering. He expected Scott to laugh at him but he didn't.

"Why is your room a mess then? It wasn't like this when I checked it earlier." Scott asked, his voice no longer soft.

"It wasn't me, it was like this when I got home." John said, trying not to make a big deal out of it even though it was. He didn't want Scott to be angrier with him then he probably already was.

John felt a tear slip down his face and hurriedly wiped it away but before he could let his hand drop to his side Scott grabbed it and held it by the wrist.

"How did you do this?" Scott asked and John thought he heard a hint of concern but that couldn't be right. Scott didn't care about him and he certainly couldn't trust him enough to talk to him about anything.

When John didn't answer Scott got frustrated, "Well?"

John again didn't say anything but tried to pull his hand from Scott's, "Why are you here? Did Dad send you?"

"What are you talking about? Dad is on a business trip; you know he is. He told you last night, weren't you listening?" Scott's words were spoken without hesitation but John knew he was lying, he had seen their Dad.

"Oh." John murmured. "Okay."

Scott's expression was unreadable as he let go of his younger brother and stepped away from him, he instead moved to the doorway. John quickly moved away from the wall and practically crawled onto his bed.

"Virgil will be waiting for you in the med bay to get your hands cleaned up." Scott told him. "Don't make him come looking for you."

The eldest of the Tracy brothers then left the middle child alone and confused on his bed.

As Scott walked down the corridors of his luxurious home he couldn't help but feel worried and slightly anxious; something was wrong, he was sure of it.

When he reached the living room, where Virgil and Gordon were, his facial expression became impassive. He sat on the empty chair and didn't look at his younger siblings even though he knew they were both staring at him.

There was silence in the room for less than ten seconds before Gordon opened his mouth, "What happened?"

Scott shrugged, "His room was a tip and he seemed to think that Dad was here."

"But, Dad told him he was going to be away when he got back. We were all there, we saw him." Gordon was puzzled and he didn't like it. "Is he alright?"

"I don't know, he was acting rather weird and his hands are all cut up." Scott told them, deciding not to hide anything. "He thought that one of us had messed up his room but I checked, it wasn't like that when I checked earlier."

"That's what all the noise must have been." Virgil concluded, "Does he need me to clean his hands up?"

Scott nodded, "I told him you'd meet him at the med bay."

"What should I say to him?" Virgil asked Scott, Scott always knew what to say.

It was a few minutes before Virgil got a reply, "Nothing unless he says something to you."

Virgil nodded before moving off of the sofa, where he was sat next to Gordon, and left the room.


	3. Chapter Three

A/N- Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, you've made my week. I only hoped to get this chapter out sooner for you all but I got a bit stuck with it. I hope it's alright.

Disclaimer- I forgot to do this for chapter two, ooops. I own nothing, I tell yee.

**Chapter Three**

John fidgeted as he waited, something was going on and he didn't like it. The med bay was too quiet and the bed he sat on too stiff. Virgil wasn't here yet; John could just imagine what evil schemes Scott, Virgil and Gordon were planning. They had already wrecked his room, what else could they do?

The room was so quiet; it reminded him of the solitude of Thunderbird five. He wished he could be up there now by himself and with no worries of what his brothers were planning on doing to him.

The blonde studied his hands, he didn't understand how he had hurt them but now the pain started to get to him. He didn't notice that Virgil had joined him in the room.

The clanging of cupboard doors made John jump; Virgil looked up at him but didn't smile or apologise, instead he went about his business collecting swabs and disinfectant.

When he was finished he went to John, putting the supplies he had gathered on a metal trolley and wheeling it over, before pulling on a pair of medical gloves. John didn't look at Virgil during his approach, though he could imagine the facial expression Virgil was wearing.

Blank, but his eyes would tell everything. They would be lit with anger and hate because Virgil did hate him, John knew it. Virgil never came on the supply run up to Thunderbird five and he would hardly ever contact John. John didn't like Virgil as much as he did when they were younger, Virgil wouldn't join in with the taunting.

Virgil looked intently at John's hands as he cleaned them with a swab, underneath the blood there was bruises and deep cuts and he could see bits of glass lodged into the skin.

Even though Scott had told him not to say anything Virgil couldn't help himself, "How did you do this, John?"

John looked at him and they locked eyes. Virgil was surprised at how dull his younger brother's eyes were, he was used to them gleaming with humour and mischief.

John nearly always had something to do with the pranks that Gordon played. Gordon would contact John while everyone was sleeping and together they would work through the kinks of any plans Gordon had, of course Alan didn't know this but everyone else did. Virgil knew for a fact that Alan thought that Gordon was a genius and Gordon wasn't about to tell him otherwise.

The pranks had been few and far between over these past few months; they had been busy with missions and various other things.

Virgil sighed before looking away from John's blue eyes; he wasn't going to force what was wrong out of him even if he really did want to. He wanted to help.

"I'm going to give you an injection because I have to pull some pieces of glass out and give you stitches, is that alright?" Virgil asked, he spoke in a monotone as if he were speaking to a stranger on a rescue mission. Polite but slightly aloof.

John nodded but it didn't matter, Virgil was already preparing the injection. John closed his eyes as he felt the prick of the needle stabbing into his skin.

Virgil worked quickly and silently; his mind was a buzz with thoughts. There was nothing in John's bedroom that he could smash and cut himself with apart from the window but Scott would have seen it and said something about it.

They all had en-suite bathrooms, had John wrecked his bathroom too? There would be plenty of things to smash in there; it seemed like a plausible explanation.

"Virgil?" John's voice had been quiet and Virgil had almost missed it.

Virgil looked at his younger brother's face, "Yeah?"

John felt nervous, Virgil didn't seem to be in the best of moods and John didn't want to make him angry. Thoughts that had been in his head only a moment ago had disappeared and now the blonde was at a total loss of what he was going to say. His mood shifted slightly and he became upset.

"Virgil." He repeated, his voice shaking. "Why does Dad hate me?"

Virgil's eyes widened, the mood change from being anxious to distress had perplexed the second Tracy brother. The words that John had said didn't quite sink in.

Virgil stopped mid-stitch, his eyes searching out those of his brother's, "What?"

"Does he not love me? Am I not good enough?" Tears slipped from the normally stoic Tracy's eyes. "Is that why he sends me away?"

Virgil looked away and began to stitch John's wounds again; John had to be insane, how could he think that their father didn't love him? There had never been any hint of anything but love from their Father.

Virgil finished his job quickly; the bandaging was done hastily, and rushed out of the med bay.

John watched him go with a distant look on his face.


End file.
